Lawless Zone Requitas
The Lawless Zone Requitas. A city now far more famous by its moniker, the "Lawless Zone," than its original name. Rumors abounded that in the slums of Requitas, a man could be killed for a mere handful of breadcrumbs. In alleys reeking of decay, corpses lay strewn about like common stones, and the passersby paid them no mind. To them, a dead body was no different from the trash littering the streets. In truth, they viewed themselves much the same way.
A den of vice where more than half the population had a criminal record. Outlaws who couldn't survive in polite society—mercenaries who broke their contracts, deserters who fled the terrors of the battlefield—all flowed into this societal sewer. Even the Emperor, who styled himself the father of the Empire, had turned his back on this land, leaving it to rot in a pungent haze of cheap alcohol.
"Hit him again!"
"You useless bastard! You're already groveling after just a few hits? If you lose me my money, I'll tear your jaw off!"
"Bwahaha! That's it! Gouge his eyes out!"
It was a tavern that peddled cheap, toxic spirits. On the creaking wooden floorboards, two men traded heavy blows. Having exchanged countless punches already, both of their faces were smeared with raw, bloody gashes. Neither the onlookers nor the tavern keeper showed any intention of stopping the brawl. In fact, the keeper seemed to welcome the sudden violence. To be perfectly honest, the alcohol he served tasted terrible, and selling terrible alcohol required a good show to keep the patrons distracted. Thanks to that, not a single day passed without a fight in this establishment. It wasn't some massive riot with dozens of men; a scrap between two rowdy brutes was hardly anything special.
Thus, "something special" meant an entirely different kind of event. For instance, a clean, well-dressed man and woman walking into this dingy, dilapidated hole. A swordsman who practically radiated danger, and a lady wearing a veil so thick it didn't permit a single strand of hair or the slightest glimpse of her eyes to show, as if she were far too precious for this world. The moment they stepped inside, the tavern fell dead silent. Even the two men who had been pummeling each other paused mid-swing. In that frozen pocket of time, only the newcomers moved with leisurely grace. The swordsman took a seat near the counter, and the lady followed silently, claiming the stool beside him.
Three silver coins clinked onto the counter in front of the tavern keeper.
"A glass of whatever you're most confident in. Just cold water for the lady beside me."
"That seems like a bit too much coin for just that."
"Isn't getting paid extra a good thing?"
"Only if you're just buying drinks."
He was a shrewd man. Perhaps one had to be shrewd to run a tavern in a place as treacherous as this. Instead of greedily snatching the silver, he reached for a glass first. "Whenever someone orders my specialty or the most expensive thing in the house, there's only one drink I serve. It's called the Tears of Tomorrow."
"I'm curious about the name."
"It means if you drink a single glass, you won't wake up until tomorrow. It's a potent brew."
Beneath his white beard, his wrinkled mouth twitched into a smirk. He casually slid one of the silver coins toward himself. "I don't want to look like we're in league, so I'll give you your money's worth of advice. Watch your back."
The moment the words left his mouth, the swordsman thrust his arm backward. Without even looking, his hand clamped onto a wooden club aimed at his head and wrenched it away. The entire motion was as effortless as snatching a toy from a toddler. The tavern keeper decided to look away. There was no need to wonder what would happen next; the outcome was already painfully obvious.
"I might make a bit of a mess."
"That's fine. Just don't splatter too much blood. It's a pain to clean up."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The swordsman swung the stolen club as if it had always belonged to him. The first strike broke an arm, the second shattered ribs, and the third cracked against the temple—all in the blink of an eye. Every blow landed with pinpoint precision. His movements flowed like water, devoid of any wasted effort. A standard longsword hung at his hip. What if he had drawn that blade instead? The moment that thought crossed the minds of the other thugs, they instinctively took a step back. It was a futile gesture. The swordsman closed the distance instantly, knocking another man unconscious with a single strike. The two assailants collapsed to the floor in a pathetic heap.
Does he dislike killing? the tavern keeper wondered. The thugs had struck first, yet the swordsman had spared their lives. It wasn't a simple tavern brawl; it was outright robbery. Even if he had slaughtered them on the spot, no one in the Lawless Zone Requitas would have batted an eye.
"Here is your Tears of Tomorrow. Since you seem busy, I'll just leave it here."
The glass sat on the counter. The lady, who had remained perfectly still until now, showed a sudden interest. The Tears of Tomorrow was a surprisingly decent-looking cocktail. Though it was mostly composed of cheap rum, its vibrant blue-green hue gave it an almost mystical allure. Just as the lady reached for the glass, her attention was entirely captured by the drink, while the swordsman was busy dragging the unconscious men into a corner. In other words, it was the perfect opportunity for another ambush. A few thugs crept up behind the lady. A moment later, the sharp clatter of a chair hitting the floor echoed through the room. The chair had gone down along with the men. The tavern keeper glanced over.
"Disposing of three corpses in a single night is quite a chore. Do you mind if I take one more silver coin?"
"You're quite the businessman, old man."
"You can't survive here otherwise."
"Fair enough."
A dagger was buried deep in the back of one thug's skull. But there were three bodies on the floor. He could have sworn he heard the lady whisper something under her breath just a moment ago. But to kill someone with a mere whisper? The tavern keeper felt a surge of curiosity, but his survival instincts, honed over decades, warned him to keep quiet. In the end, neither of them had been touched. He was a man who understood the virtue of restraint.
The swordsman returned to his seat. His breathing was perfectly steady, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
"I'll let you keep that last silver coin. Why don't you buy a round of drinks for the house?"
"The coin is more than enough, but why the sudden generosity toward this rabble?"
"Consider it a bribe to keep them quiet. And if they still want to cause trouble, they can treat it as a parting drink poured over their graves."
"Ah, you want me to shut them up. Understood."
The tavern keeper knew exactly how to handle the patrons of Requitas. He slammed his fist onto the counter. Thud! "Listen up, you bastards! Our generous guest here is offering to buy you a round! Either drink up and shut your traps, or draw your blades right now so he can personally slit your throats!"
"I don't recall phrasing it quite like that."
"Think of it as the local dialect. Just as the lady here speaks with refined grace, we have our own way of communicating. You have to spell it out like that for these idiots to realize, 'Ah, they just want to drink in peace.'"
"Amusing. It seems we chose the right tavern. By the way, who drank this?"
"The lady next to you."
The swordsman turned to look at her. Though her face was hidden behind the veil, the tavern keeper could feel the weight of their locked gaze. A melodious voice spoke for the first time.
"It tasted awful."
"That wasn't what I was going to ask."
"You never let me drink. I was especially curious about this one."
"Because your drinking habits are atrocious. Remember what you did at the mercenary camp last time? You literally—"
"If you say another word, I might have to kill everyone in this tavern. To protect my honor, of course."
"..."
So much for a refined noble lady, the tavern keeper chuckled inwardly. His eyes drifted to the swordsman's hands. Though his palms were covered by fingerless gloves, thick calluses were visible along his fingers. That, combined with his utter indifference to everything around him, made it clear. Despite his youthful appearance, he was undoubtedly a swordsman of overwhelming caliber. He was far beyond the league of any local thug. Every now and then, monsters of this caliber drifted into this lawless city. And whenever they did, a bloodbath inevitably followed. The tavern keeper decided he would close up shop for a while. Conveniently, a lucrative opportunity had just presented itself.
"Since the drink was a disappointment, perhaps this old man's stories might offer some consolation."
"Depending on what you have to say, I'm willing to pay handsomely for them."
"That is music to my ears. As men grow older, they tend to get nosy. I know a thing or two about almost everything that happens in these parts."
"Then, are you good at finding people as well?"
Finding people. As expected, the tavern keeper caught the distinct scent of blood clinging to that word. Getting too deeply involved would only lead to trouble.
"My old bones can't handle running around searching for people. Since you are young, it would be best to do the searching yourself."
"For an old man, you seem to be in remarkably good shape. Your forearms look thicker than mine."
"Just from my morning walks, nothing more. So, who is it you're looking for in this garbage dump?"
"It's a name from a while back. About four years ago. Can you recall anyone from then?"
"I haven't gone senile just yet. Four years is practically yesterday to me."
The swordsman and the lady exchanged a brief glance. A silent conversation passed between them. The tavern keeper waited patiently. In his mind, he was already mapping out his vacation. Perhaps he would pack his bags slowly and leave tomorrow? Honestly, the three silver coins he had already received were enough to cover a whole month's revenue for this dingy tavern.
"The name... was Keerux. A former Ranger deserter. I heard he wielded quite a bit of influence in this city."
"I know that name. It has indeed been about four years. I heard he took on a job somewhere and ended up dead."
"I have a bit of a connection with Keerux. I'd like you to tell me about the people associated with him. I'll compensate you handsomely. You won't be disappointed."
Only now did the tavern keeper truly understand who stood before him. They were avengers. Driven by a deep, bottomless thirst for vengeance. He immediately revised his plans. He needed to escape this city as quickly as possible. Leaving tonight would be best. A quiet, devastating storm was brewing right before his eyes.